Films of 2011

Risk and reward: if this year’s reviews have a consistent theme, then that would be it. You can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs.

So it’s that time of year again. That magical few months when film is actually considered an art form, and the general public pretends to judge a film on its artistic merits versus its mindless entertainment value. The short window where people like me are thrown a bone in the form of constant water-cooler discussion and societal one-upmanship, where if you haven’t seen The Artist your opinion is void and where all of a sudden there are bragging rights involved if you skipped Transformers 3 to see some small indie instead.

And here is me chewing on it…

First off, there is a public consensus that 2011 was a terrible year at the movies. Box office numbers were reaching all time lows, and there were no clear crowd pleasing dramas that everyone stood behind. I, on the other hand, felt that 2011 was one of the best years in recent history, and it has to do with both those negative points mentioned above. You see, it is possible to make a good film that everybody loves, but it is impossible to make a great film that pleases everybody. Greatness in any art involves taking some risk, and that risk will always come with some polarizing views and opinions. For every one of you that loved The Help or The Tree of Life, I can find an equal amount that thought they were awful. Last year, my favorite film was Black Swan (a fact that has only been reaffirmed after several viewings) and I still have to defend that against people constantly. And, as for the box office numbers, I think the backlash over the string of mediocre-to-bad “event” films is starting to build, and it might be a while before people start investing their time and money on better quality films. And by better quality, I mean films that often do not have constant explosions or are offered in 3D. Time will tell, but I think we are on the cusp of what happened in the 90’s, where there was a push against the Hollywood blockbuster, and an exclusivity that came with being up to date on the latest and greatest small market films. I sure hope that is the case, because the mid-to-late nineties was one of the all time great periods in film history. And don’t get me wrong, I understand that the film industry is a business first, and employs thousands of people – so it is a good thing when they are making money. But the bad investments of the past, in this case the generic, safe direction and pandering to an increasingly younger demographic that the studios have opted for, are coming back to bite them in the ass.

There will be a reactionary response to this direction though. In fact, we just saw it happen in the Academy Award nominations. The films nominated this year (probably the worst group of nominees since going to the new format), represented that safe, kid friendly populous genre that the studios are desperately trying to manufacture into the illusion of art. If you have been reading my past reviews, you know I am a big defender of the Academy Awards. I do believe they are important, and will continue to be important. That said, over the last few years, they have been giving the pageantry of the actual event top billing over the awards themselves, and it is becoming a problem. I know, America loves the red-carpet, but the Oscars handed out are still what make the event important. 2 years ago, The Academy changed the 5 Best Picture nominees to a possible 10 in an attempt to broaden the group and hopefully include some more popular films. In reality, it is an attempt to increase the ratings of the event itself, after several years of small films vying for the top honor which the general public most likely skipped for lighter fair. I get the complaint. I really do. I know it is far too hard to see so many films in a 1-2 month window, especially when that window includes Holiday responsibilities. So now we are getting to the root of the problem. I have always hated the end of the year push, and the hype machine that ultimately gets a film the gold. It is endlessly infuriating. It weights two months of the year down with all the best films, many of which are only in a very limited release (Thankfully, over the last 10 years Boston has become one of the elite cities that tend to show these limited market films) and for the other 10 months there is mostly garbage with a few decent films peppered throughout. And, while a handful of films have had success being released in early autumn, often riding the momentum of an event like The Toronto International Film Festival, what happened last year will surely keep studios from making that mistake again. Just ask David Fincher and The Social Network (more on this later). So again, I get it. People want to have an opinion and be invested in the Oscars. But the system in place has always been rewarding quality regardless of advertising budget, and one of The Academy Awards functions has always been to draw attention to great films that you may not have known about, and give those films a box office boost. That function cannot work if the public sees all the films in contention before the event, but the result would be the same as long as the quality films are still the ones being nominated. The problem is The Academy is maneuvering around this issue by simply nominating the films that the public already went to see. It makes the awards meaningless, takes all the integrity out of the process, and damns the smaller, quality films into obscurity. But it means the general public is more likely to tune in on that Sunday in late February in numbers that will rival The Super Bowl. We may only be a few years away from “Best Director nominee: Michael Bay”.

Let me go back to what I was saying before, because a lot of you are probably shaking your heads at one previous statement. Yes, I thought 2011 was an extremely strong year for film. In some ways, it was certainly lacking, and I have yet to see any film that would crack my all-time-favorites list, but there were such a large volume of very, very good films. A wide variety that spanned the course of the year, never allowing me a time where there was nothing playing I wanted to see. This year’s list could have easily reached 50 or even 100 if I had not been so busy with other responsibilities (it is for this reason I have very few films I wrote negative reviews for and instead focused on all the films I thought were great or just fell short of that mark). And, seeing that I love movies so much, that is the type of year I hope for. Was there a Black Swan or Inception level film this year? Maybe… or maybe not. But there was always a long list to choose from, and sometimes quantity can outweigh those examples of extreme quality.

And, more importantly, I think the film industry is heading in this direction, so 2011 could be a good indication of what to expect for the next few years. Fingers crossed…

One more thing: It has come to my attention that I can be more than a little long-winded. A few of you have noted that I could stand to shave some of my comments and thoughts down, so that it doesn’t mean a three-hour commitment to read this whole review. I hope my editing efforts show through.

Once again, I am not going to give you any indication of my opinion (stars, thumbs-up, etc), but they are organized, counting down from my biggest disappointments to my favorite films of the year. You won’t always agree, and I encourage debate, so please let me know what you think. And as always, thanks for reading.

On to the reviews:








The Muppets:

How can I be the only one disappointed? Is it just the thrill of seeing the Muppets on the big screen again that made people accept this dumb-ing down of an American staple? Because this film was mediocre at best, and as a huge fan of The Muppet show (and most of the films) this film was bordering on insulting. This is one of the best reviewed films of the year, which someone needs to explain to me. Right now a lot of you are probably readying your arguments, so keep reading. If by the end of this review you can reasonably disagree with me, I am looking forward to your response.

The Muppets always had a gritty, hippie-dippy sense of humor to them. It was always adult, but just appropriate enough for kids to watch even if they didn’t understand all of the jokes. A humor that was just shy of George Carlin’s lighter bits and Robert Crumb’s comics and a humor that was always low tech and spontaneous. Un-choreographed, to the point that if felt improvised. And that well-defined sense of humor was the genius of the show. And I will be the first to admit, if they had gone that direction with this film, it would have limited the audience and the film would have worked almost only on a nostalgic level.

But they certainly didn’t have to go in the complete opposite direction. The overdone musical dance numbers were completely out of place, unfunny and made the Muppets anything but cool. Obviously the target audience was a lot younger than The Muppet Show’s original fan-base in the 70’s.

The other tragic mistake of this film was the human characters and the new Muppet, Walter. They were awful, more cartoon-like than the puppets, and occupied more screen time each than all the established and iconic characters combined.

I give Jason Segel credit for bringing the Muppets back into the national spotlight. I’m sure that was not an easy task, considering the CGI heavy world we live in. And I thought the marketing for the film was fantastic (unfortunately leading to even more disappointment in the film itself). I just wish it was the intelligent, funny Muppets I know that returned, not some new, child-proof version I barely recognize.

There, now let me know how much you hate me.











Warrior:

Normally, I wouldn’t review this film, but there are a small group of people who feel so strongly that this is an award caliber film, I feel like I have to add it to the list.

Warrior is a sound film, well acted and shot, and the music always swells at just the right time. Nick Nolte and Tom Hardy each give above average performances that give the film a much more serious tone and feel, and the fight scenes are choreographed beautifully. So, when I say the film was nowhere near great, you can at least appreciate that I saw several redeemable qualities.

I won’t focus on all the little ridiculous moments with the side-stories and supporting cast. I also won’t focus on the fact that this might be the most cliché filled movie I have ever scene, borrowing from The Fighter, The Wrestler, Rocky, The Karate Kid and just about every other fighting, underdog story out there. What I will focus on is the premise, and the way the film expects you to push the limits of suspended disbelief. Films like this benefit greatly when they are based on a true story, because we as the audience are willing to forgive some over dramatization. But here, the set up is so coincidental and unbelievable, that had it occurred in real life, the public consensus would be that it was staged, fixed and fake. The fact that it is pure fiction makes the story even more ridiculous. Whatever focus group dialed up this scenario needed to take a few steps back with the melodrama, or just push it over the edge and make it a comedy (They could call it Not Another Brothers Fighting Movie and substitute Randy Quaid for Nick Nolte). Seriously, the absurdity of the set up is not something I could get past, and that is too bad because Gavin O’Connor directed the hell out of this film and made it into something that could have been taken seriously.

Warrior is one of those films that will resonate for a while, if only for the diehards that love it and see it as something bigger than it is. Unfortunately, I think MMA is going to be around for a while, so this might be the first in a long line of movies to tackle this subject. So in ten to twenty years, we might look back on this film as a milestone. I’m more optimistic than that though.











Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close:

This film has the distinguished honor of being the first film in recent history to be nominated for a Best Picture Oscar with across-the-board negative reviews and a polarized audience reaction. So I had no idea what to expect going in and tried to keep an open mind. My first impression was formed 1 second into the film, and that is: We are not ready for a fictional dramatization of the attacks on September 11th. And not only that, but we are not far enough removed from that day, so the filmmakers had no choice but to handle it in an overly serious, melodramatic tone that never fluctuates and is too one-note that the two hour film feels like an eternity. And that melodrama, being fiction, comes off as insulting. I think it will be another twenty years before a film like this one will be able to resonate and be judged fairly.

If I am going to be objective, I can tell you that there is a lot I like about this film. The young actor’s performance, as an Asspergers afflicted and grief stricken outcast, is spectacular. He is shockingly adult, and never played for cute or sympathetic, and if you can get past the premise and obvious emotionally manipulative plot, the film is worth seeing for him alone. Max von Sydow is also great in his small, silent role (again, if you can swallow the set up). Hanks and Bullock are both good in their archetypical and simple roles, and their obvious parental quality really cements the narrative source.

The film has a way of playing up the community and togetherness of post-9/11 New York, while showing off the diversity and cross section of the people affected. It also manages to make some pretty powerful and intelligent points about the grieving process. Oscar, the main character, is aware that his mission is really only a way of extending his connection with his dead Father (he refers to it as his “8 minutes”, based on the eight minutes it takes for light to reach the earth from the sun). I thought this worked, and I usually am the first person to call out a film for using too much sentimentality. The fact is, all drama is emotionally manipulative, and we want it to be. That is why we go to the movies. And to fault this film for the same reason others are resounding successes (take any Nicholas Sparks film for example. Find me a woman that didn’t love The Notebook, arguably a much more manipulative tearjerker than this one). The problem here though, is that there is no lightness to define the heartache. No comedy to define the tragedy. You can’t have shadows without light. This film is just dark and depressing start to finish. I am a big fan of Stephen Daldry, and can’t really blame him for that criticism. As poorly as this film has been received (disregarding the nomination), I think audiences and critics alike would have found the injection of humor and lightness to be even harder to accept, and even more insulting.

This is a challenging film, and for that alone I hope people subject themselves to the two grueling hours that I did, if only to form their own opinions. Because, while I don’t think we are ready for this film, I think there will eventually become a time when we don’t feel so close and defensive about the subject matter and will be able to see this film for what it is, an examination of grief. And maybe at that point, we will be able to look back and applaud this film for some of the risks it did take.

A Dangerous Method:

I wanted to love this film. Its setting, its subject matter and its cast all had my name written all over it. But I have never been a big fan of David Cronenberg and never saw the value in A History of Violence, Eastern Promises and several other films of his that so many people seem to love. And after A Dangerous Method, I can say my opinion remains the same.

First the good: Michael Fassbender and Vigo Mortensen are both great in their roles and Keira Knightley gives one of the most challenging performances of the year, surviving the many risks that come with it. The look of the film was absolutely gorgeous. In fact, behind The Tree of Life, War Horse and Hugo, this film is one of the most beautifully shot period pieces to come out not only this year, but in recent history. The costumes, the light and the color are impressionist paintings come to life.

But the bad weighs down the many heights this film aspires to achieve. The film is broken up so severely that it has a choppy, uncomfortable feel and pace that never seems to alter from start to finish. It is overly wordy as well, which combined with its puzzle-piece composition allowed me to lose interest pretty quickly and never really gave a sense of urgency to the situations or characters. There were times that the film strives for quirkiness and offbeat comedy that I felt came off as forced and flat, and only diminished the already lacking drama.

I will not call this a great or even good film, but it is a film worth seeing if only for the subject and visuals. Psychoanalysis is an interesting and potentially dramatic subject matter, and this particular story could have been a great one. And in another directors hands, this cast and crew could have brought to life a remarkable film. Therein lays my disappointment.

The Help:

Another polarizing film, as opinions on this film vary greatly even if we can all agree on the merits of the film’s premise. The Help is a very good, important story filled with rich characters that are embellished by several fantastic performances. That said, I felt that the film suffers greatly from a lack of direction.

I have always thought of a Director much like a football coach. Each great Director has his or her particular strengths, and I have always thought that certain directors would benefit from assistance in certain fields so that they are able to see the big picture. An Offensive and Defensive Coordinator if you will. Here Tate Taylor was able to direct very strong performances from his actors, but is not able to maintain the big picture. The films jumps from humor to drama throughout, often times in jarring, almost inappropriate ways that make the film seem so disjointed and often frustrating to watch. There are times when characters go from one tragic, dramatic scene directly into such a caricature of themselves that I wasn’t sure if they were about to break out into song and dance. It is hard to balance Hairspray with Mississippi Burning, and the film suffers greatly for the attempt.

But, as mentioned before, this is a strong, meaningful story, and a handful of the performances in this large ensemble cast are really great. Viola Davis, Allison Janney, Octavia Spencer and Jessica Chastain (who steals every scene she is in) are particularly great. All the more so, juggling the sharp changes from serious drama to boarder-line cartoon comedy. I do want to say one thing about the response to the performances, though this is no fault of the film itself: Viola Davis is currently the favorite to win the Best Actress Oscar, which is really another frustrating reminder of how warped the award process is. You can make an argument that she is the lead, even though the catalyst and the narrative source comes from Emma Stone’s character Skeeter, but in an ensemble like this one, they are all supporting one another. I think the studio did not want to split the vote with Octavia Spencer by nominating them both for supporting roles. Out of the two, Davis’s performance was much more subtle and showed a great range, and had she been correctly nominated would probably have been my choice for the winner.

Had The Help been a more coherent, complete film, it could have been something great. But for me, I will always see the direction not taken when I think of this film. The unwillingness to make some of the “good” characters a little more subtle and unlikable (Allison Janney’s character comes to mind), and maybe make the “bad” ones a little less hate-able (like Bryce Dallas Howard’s Disney villain). I know a lot of people will not like this review, as The Help is extremely popular and important to the people that defend it. It boils down to risk, and for me there just weren’t enough to ever consider this film a success.

Melancholia:

There were quite a few films this year that covered this same material, specifically delusion and mental illness and a metaphor or analogy of the end of the world. Besides that fact, there is little to compare with Lars von Trier’s Melancholia. And as much as I respect the risks involved in making such a unique film, they are risks because they have a good chance of going wrong.

I am certainly not one to shy away from a film that challenges and engages the viewer, and the best thing I will say about this film is that my brain was firing on all cylinders, always trying to connect the dots and make sense of what I was seeing. From the very first shot, I was questioning whose head we were occupying, what was real and what was delusion. The deeper von Trier takes us down the rabbit-hole, the more I was convinced that I was seeing the very small, narrow-minded and self-important world of two young women being challenged and eventually destroyed, colliding with the massive and terrifying real-world. Now that sentence uses obvious metaphor, but here that collision is handled quite literally.

Now there are several questions that still escape me. Was John, the brother in law, supposed to be a doctor preparing them and easing their fears? Were Claire and Justine just two archetypical sides to one person? Was any of the party actually concocted (which would explain the mother refusing to go along with the charade) or was it all just some fantastic, self-destructive delusion? These types of questions and thoughts are usually my bread and butter, and what I love about films that push the boundaries of narrative structure. And here, I was engaged from start to finish.

But once the lights came on and the film was over, I realized the greatest fault of the film. I didn’t care. I didn’t lose sleep over it, and I didn’t obsess about the thousands of subtle variables that when put together will ultimately explain the director’s vision. And the reason I didn’t care, was that I was not invested at all in the wellbeing of the characters. Unlike other films this year that handled mental illness, like Martha Marcy May Marlene or Take Shelter, there was no pity or empathy that made me care about what happens next.

Lars von Trier is one of the most divisive directors working today, and both his harshest criticisms and highest praises are, at times, warranted. He has made foolish comments that have shined a light into his personal beliefs, and – especially when you put your name above the marquee like he does – this invites us all to look at how those beliefs affect and infect his personal visions in film. Is he an unapologetic misogynist, like so many of his critics believe? I could certainly make a case for it in this film. Does he really sympathize with the Nazi’s? No, but he was arrogant enough to make light of them. So there is plenty of fuel to despise him and ignore his films. That said, he is an artist behind the camera and one of a small few willing to take real risks with each film he makes. Just look at the outrage that came when some critics trashed both this film and 2009’s Antichrist, and the backlash when this film wasn’t nominated for an Academy Award. He seems to inspire his fans to be deeply loyal. I have never been a big fan of either the man or his films, but I will keep on watching if only for the gamble each of his films represent, and the chance that one could pay off in an extraordinary way.

The Ides of March:

George Clooney is a good filmmaker. A lot of people think his films are all political speeches, but I think films like Goodnight, and Good Luck are stories worth telling. That said, The Ides of March will make it very difficult for Clooney to hide from that label. It is all politics. Even thought the message is anti-political.

Based on the play Farragut North, The Ides of March doesn’t really ever leave the stage format. Filled with monologue after monologue, political speech after political speech, the film feels like more like a play than even the most thinly altered adaptations. And I felt like the film suffered for it. Take this gem for example: “You can lie, you can cheat, you can start a war, you can bankrupt the country, but you can't fuck the interns. They get you for that.”

The message is more than sound, and is worth using the bigger medium to reach the larger audience, I was just so aware of this the whole time that I found it hard to be invested in the characters. The acting and casting was superb, from Clooney as the likeable liberal politician, Gosling as the idealistic spin-doctor to Paul Giamatti and Phillip Seymour Hoffman as dueling campaign managers.

The story, about the corrupting power of the American Political system is extremely topical and interesting, and this film handles it as well as we have seen so far. This is a film that is well worth seeing and understanding, and if it comes off as preachy, then it is doing its job. And if I could think of this as a film and not a play in film’s clothing, then I would probably consider it one of the best films of the year.











Martha Marcy May Marlene:

Films about the cult experience should generally be shied away from, if only because it is so hard to imagine the damaged mindset it would take to fall prey to such an extreme lifestyle and create a believable narrative. Here it is masterfully done through vague simplicity. Early on we learn that Martha was damaged and childlike before she was taken in by this emotionally and literally abusive cult, but the director and screenwriter never muddy things up by trying to explain how or why. Instead, the thing that borders on unbelievable is the sane action of deciding to escape.Martha Marcy May Marlene is a window into a soul that has been restarted in a way: childlike, simple and barely conscious of everyday social niceties. She is also so emotionally poisoned, that she has a very fractured view of time and reality, which only breaks down further the more her loved ones try to force her into normalcy.

Elizabeth Olsen handles the role extremely well, given the degree of difficulty. I do think it helps that she was generally unknown before this role, because the same idiosyncratic mannerisms may have seemed less natural coming from an established actress. Both she and John Hawkes really sold the film for me, as both roles were such extreme personalities. Hugh Dancy and Sarah Paulson round out the cast, and while their performances may have been believable, their characters were somewhat hard to swallow, which was a surprise considering they were supposedly the “normal” ones.

I liked this film a lot, and I thought it captured the downward spiral of fear and the re-assimilation into society perfectly. You feel what Martha feels, which is a slow slipping away that is terrifying and uncontrollable. There are two flaws that bothered me though, that of the sister and brother in law that are seemingly so preoccupied and oblivious to ever really sense that something is really wrong with this girl, and the overly clever way the director jumps around and sharply cuts the film. The direction may have added to the garbled reality, but it diminished the drama.

Contagion:

A hypochondriac’s worst nightmare. All the shots of bar peanuts, airports, public water fountains and other ways we spread germs is enough to turn anyone into a germaphobic hermit like Howard Hughes. This heightened reality and immersion into this world gripped by panic and epidemic is why Contagion worked so well. That and its amazing cast of A-list actors - It’s the Ocean’s Eleven of plague movies, with the same director, just without the sense that the actors and characters are all having a good time.

Contagion is good, and is even close to being a great film. Very close. Well acted, atmospheric and seemingly realistic while coming at the material from a fresh and original angle. The film is sectioned off into segments involving separate storylines all affected by a terrifying viral outbreak. Each story is as strong as the next, and probably capable of holding its own film, whether it is Matt Damon put into one impossible scenario after another, Kate Winslet’s (tragically underused) altruistic heroine or Marion Cotillard’s kidnapped doctor.

That is, except for one.

That one is the reason Contagion is not a great film. Jude Law’s portion of the film is an interesting angle but is so monotonous and unrewarding that it brings the whole film down. If you want to focus on the darker side of people who would use this epidemic for profit at the expense of the sick, there are a lot more creative and interesting ways to go. Where was the religious reaction, or the pharmaceutical companies? I feel like Soderbergh and Scott Burns didn’t want to make anything that could be scene as a political statement, but in a film as global as this, there were aspects that felt missing.

That said, in many other years, I feel like Contagion could be an Oscar contender. And with that cast, I am surprised it isn’t. In the end, it is a film well worth seeing. The threat of a deadly virus spreading throughout the world has never felt more probable.

War Horse:

Anyone who has followed my reviews will know that I have a very uneven opinion of Steven Spielberg’s films. I consider the bulk of his films since the early 90’s to be disappointments, and have questioned his storytelling ability and directorial decisions on multiple occasions. I think the beauty of Saving Private Ryan was in its camera work by the brilliant Janusz Kaminski, while its narrative sloppiness falls on Spielberg’s shoulders. Jaws, one of my favorite films of all time, seems to be the result of a lot of happy accidents, though Spielberg still deserves a lot of credit. So when I tell you that War Horse was almost the best film of the year, but for a few mishandled opportunities, it should come as no surprise.

First and foremost, it is a beautiful film. Every shot is an homage to the vibrant and saturated landscapes that dominated the films of the 40’s, 50’s and early 60‘s. From fiery red sunsets, to sunlit rolling hills, the film evokes nostalgia for The Sound of Music, Gone with the Wind and just about any John Ford film. It is also a film that uses this beauty as part of the narrative. Europe pre-World War I was a paradise of simplicity and nature, but slowly turns into something gray and grotesque as tanks, machine guns and mustard-gas poison and deform the landscape. And this perspective is cemented through the eyes of an innocent, beautiful horse that is both loved but also repeatedly abused and manipulated from the day he was born.

Make no mistake; this is not a film about the courage of soldiers or about fighting for a just cause. This is an anti-war film, showing the true flaws of humanity and society, and the absolute stupidity that is war. The horse is both abused and cared for equally by Germans, English and French, and the bad guy in this film is all of society. Our best view of this concept is in one specific scene that is the centerpiece of War Horse, and clearly defines the mission statement. It also has the distinction of being one of, if not the greatest sequence of Spielberg’s long and distinguished career. After several scenes of the title horse trading hands and sides in the war, often with tragic results, there is a battle scene where all hell breaks loose. Our hero horse is given another layer of personality, as the frustration finally overwhelms him and he starts to run. As the horse jumps and skids into and out of foxholes, bombs and cannons going off all around, he frantically gets caught up in several lines of barbed wire, eventually bringing him down. The sheer chaos of the scene is invocative of Picasso’s Guernica. What follows, as the fighting subsides and the sun rises, both sides of the battle notice the plight of this horse and put aside there weapons in an attempt to free him. The banter and humanity between the two war-ing soldiers working together is pure magic, and for this sequence alone makes the film worth seeing.

Where the film stumbled though, in my opinion, was in the performances and the decisions of how to handle them. At the start of the film, the performances and dialogue were full of an “aw-shucks” primitive optimism that feels completely forced. The Disney-esque family and their ne’er-do-well, bullying landlord have an innocence that is in such sharp contrast to what happens when the war breaks out, that every time the direction seemed to change moods and style it repeatedly drew me out of the film. I feel like Spielberg could have either really dialed up the contrast, to the point of satirizing both the light and the dark, or tried to draw out something more subtle that would work together as a whole. What he ended up with felt very uneven, and there isn’t a performance in the film, with the exception of the horse, that I would consider anything above adequate (and there are a few I would consider laughable).

Maybe it is because I go into all of Spielberg’s films these days with a sense of caution, or maybe it’s because I love horses, but I did enjoy this film very much and would consider it a very pleasant surprise. It wasn’t perfect, but it was beautiful and nostalgic, and made a very strong point. So, warts and all, I would consider this film one of only a few truly successful films in the director’s recent resume.

Take Shelter:

In a year that saw a handful of fantastic, career defining performances, Michael Shannon’s portrayal of an average blue-collar Father and Husband in the midst of a schizophrenic downward spiral is right up there with the best of them. And Jessica Chastain continues her dominance as the actor having the best year, and one of the greatest years in terms of quantity an actor/actress has ever had. Seriously, look at her 2011 resume: Tree of Life, The Help, Take Shelter, The Debt, Texas Killing Fields and Coriolanus just to name a few films. She is like the white, female Samuel L. Jackson.

This is a scary film. Mental instability as a narrative source is a tricky thing to pull off, but it is extremely emotional and heightens the tension when it is done right. This year, both Take Shelter and Martha Marcy May Marlene are able to pull it off successfully, where you simultaneously pity the main character yet feel the tangible fear that afflicts them.

I liked this film a lot, and highly recommend seeing it. So if you take that recommendation, stop reading this review now, because it is impossible to review this film without talking about the “twist” at the end. Seriously, this film is not worth seeing if you know the ending going in. Consider yourself warned. Take Shelter is a specific type of film up until the last three minutes, that being a film about the early stages of mental illness, and or delusions caused by some outside source. For the first 95% of the film, you will question the source of Shannon’s hallucinations and dreams. Is it the schizophrenia he is genetically predisposed to suffer? Is it exposure to gas through his work drilling or some other type of poisoning? You never really come at it from the angle of: what if he is right? Call me cynical, but “visions from God, sent only to be dismissed by non-believers” didn’t really cross my mind as an option. That said, looking back on the film, it really does heighten the frustration the protagonist, Curtis, feels. Sure, it undoes all the great and realistic depictions of mental illness, but you take the good with the bad. The sick thing is, by the end of the film, I was so far into Curtis’s head that I actually was happy the world was ending and everyone was going to die, because it was vindication for him.

But, after some time to think, I felt the ending was too far out in left field for me to consider it a great twist. The film was very good, but a more satisfying resolution would have moved it up quite a bit on my list.

My Week with Marilyn:

I really enjoyed this film. Each time I thought I had it figured out, it gave me a curve-ball that had me second guessing myself. Was this a film about the folly of celebrity infatuation, and the wasted opportunities involved with pursuing an unattainable crush? I thought so. But then the film portrays the main character’s effort and persistence at getting into Marilyn Monroe’s and Sir Laurence Olivier’s respective inner circles as a worth-while achievement. There were moments in the film that his infatuations were our infatuations, but many more where we were able to view the film as a third party and see the error of his ways. In some ways, I felt like the film was satirizing the source material as opposed to showing the lesson learned over time. Because the author of this autobiography, while aware of his blind and ill-advised idol worship, still puts these iconic actors on a pedestal, while the director slyly shows us something a little darker. It almost felt like the book-ending voice-overs were for some different, simple film, nowhere near the dark and layered commentary on celebrity image that I was watching.

The reason the film is able to pull off such a complex balance is an outstanding performance by Michelle Williams. I am not a big fan of when actors take on very recognizable real life characters, as it often straddles the line of imitation versus acting, just rehashing the obvious mannerisms over and over (I’m looking at you Jamie Fox in Ray). Here Michelle Williams gives us a Marilyn we have never seen before. Throughout the film she gives us several versions of Marilyn, from the shy, intimidated actress, the manipulative bombshell and a look behind the curtain at what she is like away from the spotlight. And the tragedy is when you eventually realize is that there is no “real” Marilyn Monroe. Williams plays her, not as an actress, but as a full time persona that is slowly eroding anything good in her life.

I found this film to be very self aware, particularly the performances. This can sometimes be a bad thing, but here I felt it worked. There was a complete vision for the film, it’s just too bad the main character couldn’t have learned the same lesson we as the audience did. Still, I really enjoyed it. Williams was brilliant, and so was Kenneth Branagh as Sir Laurence Olivier which was just as tricky a role to pull off as the title character’s. I loved the voyeuristic look at these characters and this film being made, which is able to maintain the feel of a memory throughout, even when the film veers off into it’s most pointed comments about celebrity. I found irony in the fact that the plain, everyday girl he turns down for a long shot with Marilyn is played by Emma Watson, herself an extremely charismatic and beautiful young actress that I am sure knows what it is like to live under that iconic spotlight.

And there is a smallness in this film, even with that cast and these performances, that gives the film a charming intimacy, but could have easily backfired and given the film a Movie-of-the-week, made for television feel. And I know this is not a film that people will go rushing out to see, so please take this as an endorsement, because it is really something special.

Moneyball:

I was skeptical going in, as this was a project that had been in development limbo for years. It had been called un-filmable by many people whose opinions hold serious weight. And the trailers certainly didn’t help settle my nerves. I will fully admit to expecting a disaster of a movie. And maybe that expectation swayed my opinion, but I thought Moneyball was an extraordinary film.

Brad Pitt was fantastic as Billy Beane, and I don’t want to take anything away from him or the director, but the star of the film was the script. Turning a book about statistics and equations into a commentary on self-worth was the perfect (and probably the only possible successful) way to adapt this into a film where you root for and care about the characters. And they pull it off in a way that puts Moneyball up there with not only the greatest Baseball movies, but the greatest sports movies of all time. There is a casual calm throughout this film, even in its most harrowing moments, that is reminiscent of baseball itself. But, even if you don’t love the sport, you will appreciate the underdog battle at the heart of this film.

I do have one, somewhat major complaint about the film though, and that is Jonah Hill’s portrayal of the outsider fan who manages to shake up the establishment. I am not going to complain about his acting, but more the choice of how to portray him. His character could have been the audience’s proxy, and our entry way into the world of team management. Someone we can relate to. But instead of playing him as a fan able to pull back the curtain and play in Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, he is played as a mouth-breathing, wooden introvert who never really comes out of his shell. And this is not a minor character either, but really a second lead behind Pitt’s narrative source. The fact that he was nominated for Best Supporting Actor is an indictment of the award system and a sign of its impending downfall.

That said, Moneyball does more than survive this missed opportunity, and is still a very successful film. I believe it is a great representation of this generation’s relationship with America’s pastime (even if there is little to no mention of the black cloud steroids have cast over the last 15 years). Well worth the price of admission, and much less expensive than going to the ballpark.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes:

Get over the title and the ties to previous entries in this campy, dated series. The original Planet of the Apes was a mockery of evolution “theory”, and can be enjoyed now for its ridiculous world view. This film was just the opposite. And would have been much better off if they just cut the connection and made this film its own franchise. At the very least it would have had a better title.

I saw this film months ago, and the shock and reaction to how great it was has still not completely settled in. I went in, like everyone else, expecting a typical summer dud of a movie. What I got was a compelling story from the perspective of an innocent animal, and a poignant indictment of the worst aspects of humankind. This film also shook up my position on CGI and the use of non-three-dimensional characters. Forget Avatar, forget Gollum in the Lord of the Rings films, Caesar the Ape is by far the most detailed and fully realized character every brought to life by a computer. And it’s not even close.

I can’t even say much more about this film except, go see it. Give it a chance, whether you are a pretentious film snob or a hyperactive 14 year old who only likes movies based on comic books. Seriously, I know a lot of you are shaking your heads right now, but don’t judge me until you have seen it yourself. It is the best big-budget summer movie not directed by Christopher Nolan to come out in a long, long time. And if Andy Serkis had received the nomination for his computer animated portrayal of a super intelligent Curious George, I would have stood up and clapped.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo:

Let me first say, I knew that this film would not rake in as much exposure and as much money as expected, but I was still shocked at how poorly it performed. I believe that, had The Social Network defeated The Kings Speech at last years Academy Awards, Fincher’s newest take on the now familiar material would have done much better both financially and critically. And that is sad, because I feel that this is the best version of the material that we are likely to get. And in some areas, that includes the novel.

There are two real stars of this film, that being Rooney Mara’s fantastic portrayal of a character that was destined to be put under the microscope, and also the script itself. The script was no easy task either. I thought that two films this year deserve particular praise, if only for their degree of difficulty, and those are Moneyball and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Two books that were never really suited to be two-hour (plus) films. But Steven Zaillian knocked this one out of the park. The decision to focus on Lisbeth’s humanity, making her vulnerable and relatable was something the novels lacked and the Swedish films were completely devoid of.

And let’s talk about Rooney Mara and her take on a character that will outlast us all. Lisbeth Salander is now part of the world-wide consciousness, like Ronald McDonald and Michael Jordan. And at this point, stepping into her shoes is welcoming criticism. But, as much as I liked Noomi Rapace, I felt that Rooney brought something to the character I didn’t know existed. In this film, they didn’t focus on her uncanny computer-hacking abilities, or her unparalleled photographic memory. She wasn’t a superhero. She was the product of the abuse that had defined her life: a poster child for post-traumatic stress and the definition of human. Flawed, damaged, but at the same time smart and more than willing to stick up for her self. And that is why you root for her.

Most of the complaints about this film (the ones that aren’t just reactionary responses to this film as a “re-make” of the Swedish film) involve Fincher’s direction and choices surrounding the serial-killer storyline. My response to that is, yes, the killer is handled in a somewhat obvious way, with the casting and focus on basically one of the possible culprits, never really giving you any question as to who the guilty one is. And yes, it does come off a little tongue-and-cheek and self-aware, as if no one is going into this film without knowing the story. But I never saw that particular storyline as the focus of the novel, or the film(s). Like the Swedish film that preceded this one, the film is really centered on Lisbeth and Mikael’s unique and unconventional partnership. And that is a good thing.

In the end, I wish that this film was a much bigger success. I hope they move forward with the sequels, as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was always my least favorite of the trilogy. But mostly I hope they continue because I relish the chance at seeing Mara play Lisbeth as much as possible in the future. I had really missed Lisbeth Salander in my life, and it was good to have her back.

The Artist:

This is a very good, fun and uplifting film, and I am thrilled at all the attention it has been getting over the last few months. I feel like films like this used to be limited to cult status, and often only find life in the DVD or Cable markets. The Artist is a gimmick film, whose genre outweighs every other aspect. But that limitation hasn’t kept it from becoming the frontrunner this Oscar season.

When the film started, I was enjoying it very much but was also very wary over the direction it might go. The first 15 minutes or so were just one sight gag after another, constantly self-aware that it was a silent film, overusing Meta devices like large audience signs that read “Silence”. My thought at that point was that this film better have more to say or this shtick is going to get old by the halfway point. Then the film veers into another very self-aware theme, that of Sound being introduced and making the silent picture obsolete. The film is able to make the main character’s journey of perceived artistic integrity compelling enough to keep the film fresh, but it is always overshadowed by the physical, silent era performances and constant sight gags. And this is not a negative point, because the performances are spot on, and are 100% the reason that this film has been so positively received by critics and audiences. Particularly the two main leads, Jean Dujardin’s subtle, nuanced actor and “artist”, and Bérénice Bejo who is as captivating and extraordinary as any actress I have seen all year (it is a testament to Dujardin that Bejo doesn’t manage to steal every scene she is in. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her).

Like I said, I am happy this film is receiving so much praise. It is a very good film. I am though, a little shocked at its current position as Academy frontrunner. The Artist is well worth seeing, and I can’t find many things to complain about, but it is also a very safe, unchallenging film that never takes any risks apart from its silent format. For a film called The Artist, I think this film straddles the line of non-art. And for that reason, I believe there are several superior, more deserving films that should at the very least receive the same tribute.

Hugo:

I did not know what to think when I walked into the theater on the night I saw Hugo. On one level, I was seeing the new Martin Scorsese period film about the magic of Paris, Georges Méliès and the birth of modern filmmaking. On another, I was being handed 3D glasses and seeing the new holiday childrens movie. And that is both the genius and failure of Hugo. It really is two films, for two very different audiences, neither of whom has interest in the other. But, because this is Scorsese we are talking about, both films are spectacular.

Hugo is a film I will be thinking about for years to come (a statement and fact that means the film was a success by definition). The more I think about it, the more I seem to like and understand it. But when I left the theater, my initial reaction was divided. In the end, I think Hugo was really targeted for someone like myself, who would love and apreciate the fantastic and sad story of the birth of the special effect and introduction of fantasy and imagination that now define the mordern landscape of film, all the while enjoying a nostalgic story about a Dickensian orphaned child changing the world around him and reminding me of the films that got me hooked at a young and impressionable age.

And what that means to me is, whatever you take away from Hugo, whether you loved it or thought it was too disjointed for you to connect with it, Hugo is Martin Scorsese’s love letter to film. And whether I feel it is a complete and finished film is inconsiquential. That fact is enough give this film worth and merit and makes it an important entry into the Scorses catalog.

Drive:

Drive is a somewhat strange film, different from anything you’ve seen before. And in that originality is its greatness. The film is set in some strange parallel universe, where the fonts, dress and music is a blend of 80’s and early 90’s styles, yet all of today’s technologies exist. The speech (though there is little of it) is pointed and witty, pulled from some pulp novel and placed in the hands of serious actors who never wink at the camera. In a lot of ways, the only film I can think to compare Drive to is 2005’s Brick (and if you have read my past reviews, you know how much I love that film). It is as though David Lynch decided to make an adaptation of Grand Theft Auto.

The film is a lit fuse, burning down with increasing tension and escalating violence. Seeing that I am not usually a fan of stylized violence in films, and it is usually the quickest way of pulling me out of the narrative, Drive uses it in a way that somehow works. My blood was pumping something fierce in the much discussed and debated elevator scene (though, having Carey Mulligan30 on screen had some part in that). And I was on the edge of my seat for the last half-hour, never able to predict in which direction the film was heading.

The acting was superb, given the limited dialogue and blank expressions the actors had to work with. Gosling, Albert Brooks, Bryan Cranston and Carey Mulligan all were great, and I couldn’t see any other actors stepping into their roles, which is the highest compliment I can think to give.

Drive is what I hope the term “event film” will one day refer to. The type of film that is indefinable, and one you need to see for yourself to really judge.

The Descendants:

It is funny to me that Alexander Payne seems to be such a polarizing director. Much like Terrence Malick, his disciples are fiercely defensive of his films and consider him in a class by himself, whereas his detractors don’t seem to see what all the fuss is about. I fall somewhere in-between, and it’s lonely here. I enjoyed Sideways and Election, but never thought they were overlooked or overshadowed when they came out. And again, unlike the majority of the Payne-faithful, I feel like The Descendants is his best film to date. It certainly wasn’t as funny as some of his past films, but it had more heart than any of them.

George Clooney deserves the praise he is receiving for this very un-Clooney-esque role. In a year with a handful of great acting performances, his role as the grieving husband forced to make some tough decisions is right up there, and I think he has a chance at the Gold come awards time.

This film portrays the subtle side effects of tragedy, and the nuanced ripples it causes. And it comes at these issues from a darkly humorous, often ridiculous angle which only adds to the humanity. The characters are fleshed out in a way that makes them neither likable nor dislikable, but very human and relatable. From Robert Forster to Shailene Woodley, the supporting cast is very strong and really cements the style and mission statement of the film.

There were some aspects of the film I didn’t love. Like Clooney’s unnecessary narration in voice-over that gave the film an adapted feel and took away from its originality. But overall, I was pleasantly surprised at just how much I liked the Descendants, and grew to care about these very flawed characters. If this film wins the Oscar for best picture, I could live with that. There are certainly worse options.












Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy:

Tomas Alfredson picks up right where he left off with Let the Right One In, with a thickly atmospheric tale of deeply flawed anti-heroes and villains. On the surface, this is a textbook spy-thriller with the protagonist in a position to figure out which side all the chess pieces are playing for. But what is unique about this story, is that it is not inconceivable that any one of the core cast could be a traitor, but instead each player is so damaged and corrupted already, you will absolutely expect them to be.

A lot like The Good Shepherd (though thankfully edited to a much leaner finished product), Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is about the un-romanticized, stressful and often tragic reality of espionage. The way it slowly eats a man alive, until nothing is left but a hollowed out, morally bankrupt and paranoid shell left to die alone. So don’t expect a happy ending.

The other thing you might want to know going in is that this film asks a lot from the audience. Like Syriana and a handful of other very strong scripts, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is light on exposition and forces you to engage and pay attention. I know this is not a selling point for most of the movie-going audience, but it should be. I want to be engrossed and infatuated with a film, and I want my emotional strings pulled when I go to the theater. If you want simple, mindless entertainment just to pass a few hours time then I feel bad for you, as you are clearly not living a fulfilling life.

The film also has the distinction of being very culturally significant, as one of its many charms is that it is wholly British. From the polite, repressed way the darker dealings are handled, to the respectful and honorable façade that masks even the most obviously damaged and corrupted characters, this film takes on a whole new genre if only for its ethnic and national impact.

I can not talk about this film without mentioning the performances. Each performance is very strong, and the cast is arguably the best ensemble of the year, but even up against John Hurt and Colin Firth, Gary Oldman steels the show. He is fantastic, and manages to put together one of the most understated, subtle performances I have ever seen.

So if you do decide to see this small, layered and moody drama (and I hope you do, as I loved it and can’t recommend it enough), know what you are getting yourself into. Don’t expect Jason Bourne action, pay attention and you will be fine.

Midnight in Paris:

Simply, Woody Allen’s best film in more than 30 years, and his top two in that time have something surprising in common considering Woody’s legacy. Midnight in Paris and Vicki Christina Barcelona are both about the myth of each city through the eyes of a tourist, which for me has been far more interesting than the personal stories set in the writer-director’s beloved hometown. He is uninterested in the small, individual stories of the local population, instead focusing on grander myth and even stereotypical aspects of each locale.

I am an unapologetic Woody Allen fan, and always seem to love his films, if only for their Woody Allen-ness. He has some dogs, but they all seem to have redeeming qualities. I love that his worlds are always filled with nothing but impossibly beautiful women like Marion Cotillard, Rachel McAdams and Carla Bruni, who always seem to fall for the neurotic, flawed protagonist. That’s a model that I always seem to relate to and accept for some reason.

Allen portrays Paris and its history as a bottomless well of inspiration, and an oasis for struggling artists. He makes the film about the difficult line where inspiration becomes homage and where we draw from the best aspects of history and often ignore the present. And he does this while carefully walking that same line with Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast (a source he discusses and name drops multiple times in the film).

I am not Owen Wilson’s biggest fan by any means, but here he shines as the obvious Woody proxy. His paced, slow delivery is in such sharp contrast to Woody’s speech and mannerisms that he becomes a very layered and human character. And the rest of the cast are all fantastic as well. You feel a little embarrassed and annoyed by Rachel McAdams, and fall head over heals for Marion Cotillard, which was just the point. And Michael Sheen’s portrayal of the know-it-all American professor was so perfect that he almost steals the film in the few short scenes he is in.

I was predisposed to loving this film, as it covers some of my greatest interests, from the writings of Fitzgerald and Hemingway to the paintings of Monet, Degas and more, this is the Paris of my dreams. I had a smile on my face for the entire film. If you have an appreciation for culture, travel, art or history, this is a film that you will not be able to help but fall for.

Shame:

Steve McQueen, though poorly named for anyone trying to work in this business, has quickly become an elite director that would get my ticket bought no matter what the subject was of his next film. Both Hunger and Shame are two of the most intense films of the last decade, and are executed with such style and artistry that they draw attention to the lack of both in the films of his contemporaries.

There is a beautiful and quiet simplicity to Shame that is completely offset by its dark and depressing mood and score. Each scene is simplistic and devoid of exposition, but clearly conveys the point with emotion and limited, realistic dialogue. There are several scenes throughout the film I could draw attention to, but two in particular really blew me away. The first was the jogging scene, tracking Michael Fassbender through a pre-dawn NY as he uses exercise in the same way he uses sex: as a violent act of aggression and rage. The second scene, obviously drawing comparisons to McQueen’s famous scene in Hunger, was the restaurant-date scene which is one of the longest takes in recent history, and is acted and filmed so brilliantly that you become a voyeuristic fly on the wall. Both scenes bumped this film up another level for me, and really separated it from the rest of the pack.

The focus of the film, Fassbender’s New York bachelor and his downward spiral of unhealthy sexual encounters, is a subject matter that is obviously challenging for some. The biggest criticism I have heard about this film besides the graphic nudity and sex (I joked afterward that Fassbender’s penis should get a Best Supporting Actor Nomination), is that it is hard to feel bad for a handsome, well-endowed bachelor with a decent job and an active sex-life. Those are the people who write off sex-addiction as a joke. The problem is: I never saw Brandon, Fassbender’s character, as suffering from sex addiction. Instead, I saw him as someone who has an unhealthy outlook on sex, and is fighting a loosing battle with himself to overcome that brainwashing. And I think that is a very relevant subject and holds a mirror to the world we live in – one filled with internet porn, dwindling attention spans and a constantly decreasing amount of everyday human contact. For him sex is an act of violent aggression. One that relieves him in more than just the obvious sense, but also taming the ticking time-bomb of his psyche. McQueen is smart not to show us the past events that warped both Brandon and his equally damaged sister, but it is a constant presence in the film nonetheless. So instead, you are left feeling bad for a severely damaged, mentally scared man who cannot connect to another human being in any meaningful way, and cannot seem to better himself no matter how aware he is of his own limitations.

The thing that really sends this film over the top for me though is Brandon’s relationship with his sister. Brandon is shown as a bit of a sexual predator, hunting down his next conquest, though really only doing harm to himself. He wants so badly to be the soulless monster he sees himself as, but it is a lie. His sister, played to absolute perfection by Carey Mulligan, is also his conscience and a reminder of his own innocent beginnings. And that is why he seemingly hates and resents her presence in his life: because he is not the monster he wishes he was, which would be so much easier. And his journey in the film is really cemented when he thinks he has lost her. You finally see the fear and humanity in him when he thinks he has lost his soul, his conscience and his only hope.

I could go on for hours about the limitations the NC-17 rating that was unfairly branded onto this great film, but I am so tired of this losing battle. Instead, I will focus on the bigger injustice this film suffered: that of a complete and total award snub. This year had several Oscar worthy performances, from Michael Shannon in Take Shelter, Gary Oldman in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, and even George Clooney in The Descendants. But Michael Fassbender’s performance trumped them all. He is this generations Daniel Day Lewis. The fact that he, Carey Mulligan (if only for her heartbreaking take on New York, New York, never mind the physical transformation) and the film itself were barely recognized by any major awards and completely shut out of the Academy’s big party, is a crime against art. All three would be my pick as winners, let alone the nominations. Pathetic…

This is one of those films that some people will find too depressing or lacking in entertainment value. They will see the nudity (though I prefer to think of it as nakedness, as nudity conveys a sense of eroticism, whereas here it is anything but, and is more about raw exposure and being laid bare) as nothing but a gimmick. And that is fine, as they will have the other 90% of garbage that comes out every year to look forward to. I prefer to view film as a medium for art, and cannot wait to see what Steve McQueen comes up with next.












The Tree of Life:

No doubt, a controversial choice considering the polarizing opinions, but this can’t be a surprise to anyone that has followed my reviews in the past. This is probably the most difficult film to critique that I have ever been faced with. It is both one of the best films of this era, and one of the most disappointing. It is at times on par with the greatest films of all time, and at times so frustrating that I can’t help but shake my head at the directions the film veers off into. There are brief moments where I consider it the most personal and personally affecting of Terrence Malick’s films. But at the end of the day, I think The Tree of Life will end up on the bottom of my list of Malick’s cinematic achievements.

Like I said: difficult.

I believe that all art is like the telling of a good joke (and that good jokes are an art form in and of themselves). No matter how good the joke may be, if you have to explain it, it isn’t really funny. So, like a good joke, all art benefits from a certain amount of simplicity. Universal truths are key and can allow people to relate to the subject. And, unlike everyone and their dog that has reviewed this film before me; I believe that the simple, universal truth in The Tree of Life is what makes it great. I know everyone keeps talking about how esoteric and complicated this film is, and that you will benefit from multiple viewings. And there is a bit of truth to that. But, if you spend the film looking for all of these complicated concepts, religious metaphors and deep meaning contemplations on human nature, you might miss the forest while examining the trees.

Malick gives us plenty to work with, allowing the viewer to infer the greater meaning of his films by implying instead of shoving exposition down our throats. In this case, we can infer that at the start of the film, Jack – as an adult played by Sean Penn – has just suffered some tragedy. His mother has just died. Malick never comes out and says this, but it is easily inferred when looking at the film as a whole. And, knowing this, the film becomes much simpler in scope. The Tree of Life is about looking at the lessons and actions of your parents to find the courage and grace to overcome life’s hurdles. That’s it.

Like I said: simple. But simplicity does not make it any less genius. In fact, just the opposite is true.

The Tree of Life is really three films. Three acts, interwoven to make a whole, but the whole still seams disjointed. And, while extremely ambitious, this is the greatest fault in an otherwise brilliant film. The present day scenes with an adult Jack are filmed in a dizzying spiral of a life on the verge of falling apart. This was easily the weakest segment in my opinion, with Malick embracing the narrative far too literally, spinning the camera with constant counterintuitive angles and perspectives that leave you nauseous. Now, normally I have no issue with this sort of device, as I believe that an emotional reaction is the ultimate goal of all art, and that doesn’t exclude negative emotions. But here, it is the juxtaposing of these scenes with the rest of the film that I felt did not work. The other two segments, one of Jack’s childhood in rural Texas and the other an ambitious overview of the universe which gives us perspective of our place and the reoccurring themes that define our humanity, are both absolutely beautiful to behold. A feast for the eyes, the ears and the mind. I will go so far as to say that the scenes of Jacks childhood, his oedipal relationship with his graceful Mother and his disappointing transformation into his overbearing Father, is one of the heights of cinema of the last 20 years. Absolutely magical. And those scenes alone are the reason this is my top film of the year. There are more coherent and complete films that came out in 2011, but none can touch the 50 or so minutes of pure artistic genius that takes place in The Tree of Life.

I am so torn placing this film at the top of my list. Shame and Midnight in Paris were both very worthy films, and are far less flawed than Malick’s ambitious project. But as unique as those films are, The Tree of Life redefines the artistic merits of what film can be. And at the end of the day, I believe Malick is an artist first and foremost, and the equal of the Picassos and Rembrandts of the world. Everything he works on should be cherished, dissected and discussed as much as possible. So the fact that so many people think this film is pretentious and impossible to understand, for me only adds to its greatness. Now let me know what you think…

So, there you have it. I have a feeling this list will probably spark some outrage. But like I said, there were a lot of good movies this year, even if you dissagree with the order (or, like most people, seem to think The Help and The Muppets deserved top praises). I hope if you've read this far, I may have drawn your attention to some smaller films you didn't think were worth the time.

Ok. Time for my Oscar picks and predictions:

Best Picture
Should Win: Shame, but it wasn't even nominated out of a possible 10(!). So, I would pick The Tree of Life
Will Win: The Artist

Best Director
Should Win: Terrence Malick for The Tree of Life
Will Win: Michel Hazanavicius for The Artist

Best Actor
Should Win: Michael Fassbender for Shame. Since both he and Michael Shannon were not nominated, I would love to see Gary Oldman win for Tinker Tailer Soldier Spy
Will Win: Jean Dujardin for The Artist

Best Actress
Should Win: Michele Williams for My Week with Marilyn
Will Win: Viola Davis for The Help

Supporting Actor
Should Win: Kenneth Branagh for My Week with Marilyn or Christopher Plummer for Beginners
Will Win: Christoper Plummer for Beginners

Supporting Actress
Should Win: Carey Mulligan for Shame or Viola Davis for The Help. Neither were nominated for supporting roles. Also, as fantastic as Bérénice Bejo was in The Artist, I thought she should have been considered for lead Actress. But I will cave and say sure, she should win (sigh...)
Will Win: Octavia Spencer for The Help

Adapted Screenplay
Should Win: Steven Zaillian, Aaron Sorkin and Stan Chervin for Moneyball
Will Win: Steven Zaillian, Aaron Sorkin and Stan Chervin for Moneyball

Original Screenplay
Should Win: Woody Allen for Midnight in Paris
Will Win: Woody Allen for Midnight in Paris (if Michel Hazanavicius wins for The Artist, I might throw my bigscreen out the window)

Cinematography
Should Win: Emmanuel Lubezki for The Tree of Life
Will Win: No idea. Hardest catagory to pick in years. Hugo, The Tree of Life and War Horse would each be safe bets most years. Gun to my head, I'll say Guillaume Schiffman for The Artist in the years biggest travesty

Art Direction
Should Win: Dante Ferretti and Francesca Lo Schiavo for Hugo
Will Win: Dante Ferretti and Francesca Lo Schiavo for Hugo

Editing
Should Win: Joe Walker for Shame. Wasn't nominated, so lets say Angus Wall and Kirk Baxter for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
Will Win: Anne-Sophie Bion and Michel Hazanavicius for The Artist

Original Score
Should Win: God, it's too hard with all the rules about using previous materials etc. There were great scores this year, from War Horse to Shame, to A Dangerous Method and The Tree of Life. I have lost sight of this award completely. The one thing I will say is, I was shocked that Trent Reznor and Atticus Finch were snubbed for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
Will Win: Unfortunately, John Williams is going to split the vote with himself, so it will probably be Ludovic Bource for The Artist. Though Howard Shore could also steal this on for Hugo

And again, I could go on to Make-up and costumes, but those are secondary in my opinion. And I really hate the Animated film category.



That's it for now. Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think by leaving a comment.

Ryan Black
February 22nd, 2012